Redemption
by cdrsheppard
Summary: End tag to 'Ghost in the Machine' Sheppard must at last confront his true feelings for Elizabeth. McKay comes to his aid. The story picks up at the last scene of Sheppard, standing alone before the gate. Character study of Sheppard. Angst / friendship


Authors note: This is an end tag to Star gate Atlantis season 5 episode 'Ghost in the Machine'.

John Sheppard must at last confront his true feelings for Elizabeth.

The story begins at the last scene of John Sheppard standing before the gate.

**Redemption:**

His eyes continued to stare out; faltering only as the gate closed. A consuming feeling of separation crushed his chest. With a flash of blue leaving his field of vision, the gate room was once more contained and surrounded by murmurs.

He rested his fractured gaze on the floor in front of his feet. He realized that he couldn't feel them. His awareness of this brought on a cold chill that sharpened his focus. He could feel his heart, beating quickly. It echoed in his ears as he took a sharp breath. The pain seared his lungs as the oxygen revived his thoughts. It was over. He heard screaming in his head. It was him. He was screaming out after her. Panic swelled up… he had to move away from the weight of what just happened. He had to move, but he couldn't.

Rodney was at the top of the stairs, fumbling to find his own balance as one leg stepped out, following another. Heavy steps…and then he took one last look at the gate. His throat closed tight as he saw Sheppard, immobile like a photograph, still resonating with what had just transpired. Rodney had vowed to himself he could hold it together until he made it back to his lab, or anywhere but here…but seeing John like that, made him realize that he was going to go back on his word. It was in this moment, one they had all tried to avoid, that the gravity of everything unspoken filled his heart. They had always held out hope, especially John. He knew it silently drove Sheppard on. But now, he didn't want to imagine the hurt. He closed his eyes. After a deep breath, his hand found the railing as he made his way back, down to his friend.

Rodney was cautious to approach him. Outward appearances to the average passerby suggested only two men standing at the base of the stairs. Rodney was all too aware of the implications.

He knew that John would never allow him or anyone to see a physical manifestation of the truth. All those unspoken feelings John had held away from the world and Elizabeth. He wondered if she ever really knew. Looking at his friend, it was clear that the hope **she might** one day, was now blackened by finality and a regret that stole the color from John's face. Rodney gently placed his hand on his friends shoulder, feeling the damp sweat, now cold that had soaked through. As his throat threatened to collapse, Rodney found his compassion, full with sadness on his tongue and quietly spoke, "Sheppard….."

His pupils widened quickly as his adrenaline shot up into his body. He couldn't breathe suddenly as he realized he wasn't alone. It took a moment for his mind to connect to his mouth, dry and clenched tight. He could feel Rodney next to him…_Yes, it was Rodney._ The sound of his own name rippled past, almost too low to hear. He could feel the weight of the intrusion rimming his eyes with moisture, threatening to spill. He could not lose control now. _Not now! _He tried to move, pleading with his feet, still numb. _He had to go NOW!_

Rodney saw the change in John's face. Shock now flushed into desperation. He could feel the fragile line John was straining not to cross. He saw him begin to shake slightly as he fought for control. Rodney fought with him, again respecting something that was unspoken but understood. With a slight shifting of his weight, Rodney moved forward, his hand still on John's shoulder. "Let's go." slipped from Rodney's lips.

John's head mutely pulled back in slow motion as he was finally able to acknowledge Rodney with a hollow nod. He was grateful for the forward momentum helping him find his feet. They both started off down the hall, slow but determined not to appear lost to what was now gone forever.

It was a blur, distorted colors and voices now shifting behind as John realized he was now at the door to his quarters. He wanted to look at Rodney, to thank him for taking the chance of intervening…but his eyes, lagging behind his intentions, failed to express the thought. He looked at his friend with a transparency of shock and grief, and then bowed his head as he passed his hand over the door control.

Rodney watched him disappear inside, and as the door closed between them, he felt his own uneasiness turn his stomach. He felt as if there was a cliff on the other side of the door and he had just watched his friend step off of it. He knew this would change Sheppard forever.

Rodney had always known the truth about John and his feelings for Elizabeth. When Elizabeth lay in the infirmary with no chance, he saw Sheppard near her, his face wet with grief, destroying and betraying him openly, against his will. He reflected back when they had a glimpse of a 'found' Elisabeth on the view screen in the control room all those months ago. It was a moment of hope. John could barely speak as he looked back at her. John had been shattered by the sight. Completely undone. He could feel John's angst with every syllable he had uttered to her. Rodney remembered how even when John had been told by that 'other 'Elizabeth that she was dead, he secretly did not give up. Rodney knew it was not enough proof. But now, this was. What else could there be? He knew Sheppard had to find his way alone on this, at least for now.

Feigning a purpose for the moment, he swallowed thoughtfully and made his way to his own quarters. Solitude seemed the correct answer right now, even if he had to be alone with his own unpleasant thoughts.

The room was cool and dim and seemed smaller somehow. John's hands numbly fingered his weapons, one by one and set them somewhere…_maybe onto his night table, _he thought. His motions were automatic yet vacant as his TAC vest followed onto the floor. As he looked at the bed, it came up to meet him as he unlocked his knees. Gravity pulled him down deep into the mattress, his body surrendering from the strain of an adrenaline induced rigor. With eyes closed, he could feel himself falling faster, farther into a cold blackness. He hoped for escape into the dark place behind his eyelids, but it was only temporary.

She stood there looking back at him, in the protective drape of his mind. This was the last place he could truly see her. He could see her there before all of the pain and fear came crashing down. It was a way home for him. She felt like _home_. The one person who gave him a sense of what that could mean. She was the only one who _really saw him_. It was a private thought bound by vulnerability and reverence. His hands moved to cover his eyes already clamped shut, as if to hold the image in. Her eyes, her presence. It was a frequent refuge he retreated to when things were unbearable or if he just needed a quiet moment of peace. Holding himself separate from everyone had been necessary for every reason he could think of, but now the suffocation of loss bled sickly across her image.

He had always longed to let her know she had been _**let in.**_ To let her know what she meant to him…how he was a better man just for her…How he loved…_oh, god how he had loved_ _her_...something he could barely whisper to himself on a good day for fear of discovery. He knew there was something between them. Something mutual. Something kinetic, intimate and deepening that was so close to finding its way to the surface. She had let clues slip out along the way…. Regret sliced the thought apart.

He tried to choke back a wave of grief but the effort racked his body as he desperately put his arms around himself. Cresting the fortress wall he had labored on for so long, emotion flooded him though and through, at last breaching his defenses. The guilt and pain spilled out into the room like the blood of an innocent. Quiet cries became louder and broken as they forced themselves out of his mouth with crippling power. Over and over he could hear the words crashing abusively in his head, screaming, 'how could I ever let this happen? How could I leave you?' He could hear her call his name… she was crying his name...

He lay on his side, arms wrapped tight like his eyes yet unable to stop the push of tears down his hardened face. His memories dripped with agony as he frantically tried to escape them. He would always remember her terrified face, as _he had to leave her behind_. Ronon tearing him away. His heart was crushed out of him and screaming in that moment of duty and preservation. Indelible and forever his regret would be, for that moment that would never have a chance to be redeemed. He was now sure there was no way back. She was really gone. In the absence of hope and his strength vanquished, he gave in. At last. Darkness and loss embraced him.

A soft morning light made its way across his face as he slept. Dawn was a moment away and needing to find him. His eyes opened slow and painful to the sight. The shimmer of the new sun on the water outside his window played quietly on the ceiling as he found himself, intact for the most part, but fragile. He felt strange. He wondered if he was in his quarters. Why did his body hurt so much? We wondered if Ronon had used a stunner on him. Then he remembered…No, no he didn't want to, but it was too late.

Rising up like a ghost, feeling battered and frail, he shed the stiff clothing from the night before as if to find freedom. He stumbled to the shower out of habit, and made his way in. His consciousness began to align its self to the moment as the warmth of the water enveloped and held him. He felt slight and a bit lighter, like a breeze through an open window, but still framed with grief. He was clumsy, his body slow to react to each vague command. Eyes closed, he let the water spill over his face in some weak absolution. Just the sound of flowing water filled his reality, raining down, and then he saw her…

Her eyes, her presence wrapped around him in white light. She was close, calming. She stood at the gate, looking back at him with love. He reached out for her and she smiled. Fighting between two worlds, he pulled back and shivered as he braced himself against the shower wall with both hands. She was still there for him. For now. He was still breathing in and out and although painful, _that was hopeful_ he thought...a small gasp of despair crept out only to be drowned. The water eased and brought him back to himself, warmer but still alone. _He had to keep moving_…Feeling his towel at the entrance, he emerged to find a new challenge.

Meeting himself in the mirror was an unkind moment. His eyes were slightly swollen, darker and tinged with crimson as if he had been the loser in a bar fight from last week. His vision was still blurry as he gently felt his tender discolored face with heavy fingers. _If he could only remember_ _just how many punches_…his face ached like his chest. Brutalized by the truth, he looked older and gaunt. He met his own pewter forged gaze with the knowing that _**he had broken open at last and survived.**_ _Only he had to know_. Black hair obeying no known law but up, he resigned himself to the stark clues of his transformation and with an unconvincing determination, shaved the shadows from his face. The loss and grief would take much longer.

He dressed thoughtfully, still not quite in his body as he chose his black uniform. The color seemed a theme he could not escape from. His hands trembled slightly as he buttoned his shirt. With great care he holstered his gun and knife, almost forgetting how as he tried to push aside the distraction of upwelling memories and feelings. They were still working their way up, burning through his tight stomach. It felt bitter and empty. Biting down on his lip in an effort of control, he realized he couldn't recall his last meal. Maybe he would be hungry later. Maybe he would care. He needed to _focus_ he told himself. Breathing was getting easier, but he still felt blown open.

It was a new day and he had to find his strength to face down the world outside his door.  
At last assembled, he looked out his window, searching himself and the view for motivation. Maybe forgiveness. _Maybe in time..._ The morning was beautiful outside, shining its light upon him, through him. _Like her..._

He had to move past it like always, but this, this was so much more personal, more private. It would leave more than a mark; it would stain his soul a shade darker.

If he could still care for Elizabeth with a public face, it would be to care for what she had loved. Atlantis. If he could still care for her privately, he knew he had to care for himself. She had two loves. The city and him. He knew that now. He had to let go...

Swallowing tight, John Sheppard steadied himself and moved his hand over the door control, breathing heavily out as it opened. "And now for the hard part…" he said softly as he stepped over the threshold.

Fini

By n7cdrsheppard 8/17/08


End file.
